Twisted Metal!
by Chris Gammon
Summary: Chap 4 up! For language and violence. What would happen if Twisted Metal was held in Nowhere Kansas?
1. The Comming of the Contest!

Courage was sitting in his home, happily playing with his yo-yo. He was bored, and wanted a change of pace to spice things up. Nothing bad.  
  
But then again, something bad ALWAYS happens in Nowhere, Kansas.  
  
Tonight is no exception! For tonight, this desolate area, and the nearby city will witness the greatest spectacle of carnage the world has ever seen. A legendary tourney where winners are granted their dreams, and losers die.  
  
A world controlled by one man, with a twisted mind and demonic connections.  
  
But Courage didn't know of this coming. He was oblivious to the fact he will witness the smashing, thrashing, and madness.  
  
The blood, the chrome, the gas, oil, sweat, tears. The smells that overload all senses and induce adrenalin to make you do things you never saw yourself doing. Never thought of doing.  
  
For in this contest, there are no rules. No worries, no laws. Just pure chaos.  
  
Twisted Metal had found a place for it's eleventh annual running. And Courage was haphazardly in the middle. No one from Nowhere would enter, but there are rumors that there are going to be a lot of participators. At least 40 people had entered. All setting out to get their wish granted by the mystery man who ran the show.  
  
A low humming noise caught Courage's attention. He looked out the window, figuring it was just an airplane or something.  
  
It was nothing, just a blimp. A low flying blimp that seemed a little too close for comfort. Courage's internal alarm, his sixth sense, was screaming at him, telling him that this blimp was an ominous forthcoming to something horrible.  
  
Inside this blimp, a man sat in shadow. A small globe in front of him. He began to talk.  
  
[Most of this story will be from his POV until changed]  
  
I had chosen Nowhere, Kansas as the spot for my event. This desolate area was the perfect spot with plenty of room to roam and destroy. This place had no residents that I could see, and the only thing in the way was an abandoned, ramshackle house. The condition of it showed years of abuse, meaning that nobody lived here.  
  
Sure this whole event is just a dream. Or is it? Your wish comes true, or dose it really? The violence doesn't happen, or dose it?  
  
There is a fine line between reality and fantasy. Once that line is crossed, there is no turning back. We all may be dreaming this contest, but we at least get what we want. Only in our dreams are we granted what we want. But like reality, here too you have to work for what you want.  
  
So many people want me to grant their wishes. It would be too difficult to do everyone, and not very sportsman-like to play favorites. So I created this contest to see if they deserved their wish. Sure I attract some people who want to take me down, but they never do.  
  
They have to be careful what they wish for. Sure, they get what they want in the end, but at what price? What cost of others or themselves to fulfill their fantasy?  
  
My contest will once again decide who gets their wish granted this night. All of the entrants are from the past contests, but as I said before, being a dream they wouldn't remember any of what happened before. It would be as if this was their first time. And they always have a new wish to grant. Some have the same wishes as well, because they never got to make it reality.  
  
Of course, only one other person knows the truth. The whole illusion of this contest. He has been in all of them from the start, and always wanted to take me down. I hope he doesn't come here for this one.  
  
If he dose, I will be ready.  
  
[end POV]  
  
Courage stared up at the blimp. It seemed there was lights on the side, like a message board. It lit up, startling Courage. He stood there reading it.  
  
"TWISTED METAL TOMORROW NIGHT! COME GET YOUR WISH GRANTED!"  
  
"Twisted Metal?" Courage asked himself, starching his head. "Isn't that the contest where all those people try to kill each other in bloody car combat? OH NO!" Courage screamed. Of all things to be in the middle of, this had to be the worst.  
  
Even being stuck underground with Reginald Baggs would be better than this. Muriel would be in serious trouble if those psychopaths destroyed the house.  
  
He yanked his ears as he tried to think. Thoughts of smoldering metal, screams of anguish, and Muriel getting hit with stray ammunition, or whatever they use for weapons, surged through his mind, making planning more difficult.  
  
{begin POV]  
  
I saw a dog running around. Apparently this ramshackle house is populated. Meaning that this would prove ample entertainment. Would they struggle to survive, or just give in and die? Surely they wouldn't enter! Of all people, they have nothing to wish for!  
  
I, Calypso, shall make this tourney worth wile! If they refuse to enter, I don't care! They are nothing to me!  
  
[end POV]  
  
Courage watched the blimp float off. He heard echoes of revving engines carried by the chilly winds that sent shivers up Courage's spine. He felt Goosebumps under his fur, and swore his knees were knocking. It had become unnaturally cold, making his sixth sense scream at him again. Chilly winds are a foretelling of things to come.  
  
He stopped shivering long enough to catch a scent. Diesel fuel. Someone was burning the midnight oil, and it wouldn't be long.  
  
Courage went back into the house. The sun had began to set, and he felt tired. Boredom takes a lot out of you. You feel all that is left to do is sleep. But still.....  
  
Courage glanced over his shoulder one last time, at the orange sky over the silhouette of the city. It looked so peaceful. So surreal. The smell was gone, carried away by the increasing winds. A storm was on the horizon, Courage thought, looking up at some slight gray clouds.  
  
He signed and went back inside, waiting to see what tomorrow brings. 


	2. The First Player Arrives

Courage lie on his back, thinking of Sandy and all things he enjoyed. His faint snoring was the only sound in the darkened house. Courage had slept all night, and the sun was just about to rise.  
  
Courage stirred awake at his stomach growling. He went straight to bed, and his absence of dinner caught up to him. As he lie on his back, thinking of what to eat, a sound hit his ears.  
  
It was faint, but unmistakable. It was the ding-a-ling of an ice cream truck! Courage instantly rolled over and leapt out of bed. The ringing sound of an ice cream truck was something he looked forward too everyday of puppyhood.  
  
Then Courage stopped in his tracks after reaching the base of the stairs. There was never any ice cream trucks out here before. Why now?  
  
Courage sighed, and opened the door, ready for the obvious trap or bad thing that seemed to ritualistically happen around here.  
  
He pushed the door open, and sitting in the sandy lot outside was indeed an ice cream truck. Granted it wasn't the friendliest sight mind you. All the flavor stickers had faded off, it was riddled with bullet- holes, and looked like it had been on fire at one point. As a matter of fact, it had been through World War 3.  
  
The giant metal clown head with the pointed nose and phony flame for hair rested on top. Courage was frightened by this, it was just so ugly.  
  
He walked up hesitantly, noticing the music had stopped. He swore he smelled blood.  
  
He wouldn't understand me talking. There isn't any sticker to point to. If only I could morph into what I want, like that dog in the cartoons. Courage thought as he looked at the melted paint and seared off stickers.  
  
What the hell happened to this truck? Is he from a bad part of town? Courage asked himself, looking over the truck.  
  
"Can I help you?" a menacing voice asked, followed by creepy cackling.  
  
Courage felt his blood freeze in his veins. He feared to look, knowing that something with that kind of voice always was a horrible thing.  
  
He swallowed hard, and slowly turned to look at the driver of the truck. He screamed at the sight, but couldn't seem to tear himself away.  
  
This muscular man, wearing a porcelain clown mask, mesmerized Courage with his flaming head. That's right, his head was on fire, and everyone is always entranced by flame.  
  
Courage continued screaming, yet unable to run. The overload on his internal fear meter made his legs freeze up. He couldn't run no matter how hard he tried.  
  
He finally stopped, due to lack of breath. He gasped and felt his heart almost collapse. He swore it skipped a few hundred beats too. He even felt the symptoms of another heart attack coming.  
  
This man brought so much fear to poor Courage, that he never encountered anything like it.  
  
"I'm Sweet Tooth the clown! But you can call me Needles if you want!" the evil clown creature/man said, laughing.  
  
Courage finally felt his brain kick back on, and he ran blindly into the house, slamming the door behind him, and stopping in the attic. He leaned against the door, trying to breath again after his mad dash.  
  
"How strange. He didn't even say hi to Harold the Happy Lunch Sack!" Sweet Tooth said to himself, looking at the paper bag on his hand like a puppet.  
  
Courage swallowed his last breath, and glanced at the computer. He sat down on his pile of books, and looked out the window, seeing the truck was still there.  
  
He typed a search on "Sweet Tooth the clown" and came up with numerous results.  
  
"Oh my! THE Sweet Tooth the clown?" the computer asked, seeming sarcastically shocked.  
  
Courage bit his nails. He feared to read what this guy was.  
  
"Sweet Tooth is a serial killer. He killed hundreds of people before getting committed to Black Hills Asylum. There he awaited his death penalty by electric chair. One of the preachers put some sort of curse on his damned soul, and this infuriated Sweet Tooth so much that he killed three guards before escaping into the unknown."  
  
Courage screamed at this news. Actually escaping your own execution? Would he try to kill Muriel?  
  
"Some even say that during his imprisonment, he took a hammer to his face to look like is favorite clown." The computer said, wanting to spook Courage even more.  
  
This was only the beginning. 


	3. Battle For Supreamacy!

[I try to make Courage's reactions as real as possible. None of that screaming to pieces and stuff like in the cartoons. How would YOU react in these situations?]  
  
Courage stayed up in the attic for awhile. He looked out the window constantly, still seeing Sweet Tooth waiting for something.  
  
Then another car pulled up. It looked like a normal car, bastardized for illegal street racing. On the front was two huge pizza saws.  
  
The young punk walked out with a pizza box. He walked up and knocked on the front door, eying the ice cream truck behind him.  
  
Eustace answered. "We don't want any!"  
  
"You order a pizza?" the boy asked, sounding too ghetto to be his white self.  
  
"Nope! I don't want any!" Eustace shouted.  
  
"Look man, you ordered it. Therefore you have to pay it." The pizza boy said, getting edgy.  
  
Courage was watching from the top of the stairs the whole time. He didn't like this guys attitude. He had his head through the props of the railing  
  
"Don't fuck with me old man! Did you order a pizza or not?" the Pizza Boy asked, getting aggressive.  
  
"HEY!" a voice called. "I ORDERED THE PIZZA!" Sweet Tooth yelled from his truck.  
  
The Pizza Boy let go of Eustace's shirt, and shoved him back. He walked up to the truck and gave Sweet Tooth the pizza.  
  
"I said I didn't want any anchovies!" Sweet Tooth protested.  
  
"Don't shoot the messenger man!" Pizza Boy said, walking away. As he got into his car, the strangest thing happened.  
  
Courage screamed, and hid back up in the attic. He looked out the window at the final form of what just happened.  
  
There, Sweet Tooth's truck had transformed into a huge robot with the clown head. A rain of missiles narrowly missed Pizza Boy.  
  
"Hey motherfucker!" Pizza Boy yelled. He got into his car and proceeded to launch the pizza blades at Sweet Tooth.  
  
"Boys, boys, boys! Save all your spunk for the contest!" a voice said.  
  
Calypso walked into view, his well-pressed suit contrasted with his hideous burnt face. "You want to have all the energy possible to win. After all, your wish will come true!"  
  
"Oh! So your in this contest too?" Sweet Tooth asked Pizza Boy  
  
"Yeah, sorry for the scuffle man." Pizza Boy said, shaking hands with Sweet Tooth.  
  
"You realize I'm gonna kill your motherfuckin' ass?" Sweet Tooth asked.  
  
"Not if I kick yours first, ass!" Pizza Boy snapped.  
  
Their opposite shoulders met as they readied to fisticuffs right there. Calypso pulled them apart.  
  
"Now, now. Save it! Please!" he said, sending the two back to their vehicles. "Wait for the other contestants to arrive."  
  
Courage pulled back into the attic. Leaning out the window, he heard the whole thing. Wish coming true? Is that what this carnage was about?  
  
What was that black thing behind the guy? Courage thought to himself.  
  
Indeed there was a black figure behind Calypso. This shadowy imp was Black. He was the one that made the wishes come true, not Calypso. Only Black has the power.  
  
"WEEEE...S..HOU...LD....MAK...E......THEM....FIIIGGGHTTTT.." Black said. He didn't really grasp our language yet.  
  
"No, they need to have plenty of rest. If who I think shows up I need everyone ready to destroy him. He cannot get his wish." Calypso said.  
  
"WWHHHHHHOOOO..ISSSS..THAA...AAAAAAT?" Black grunted.  
  
"Why Needles' brother of course! Marcus Kane knows the whole thing is a dream. He got his wish granted to 'wake up' and he decided to wake everyone else up. In order to do so, he must destroy my contest from within. Every year he tries to win, to rid of this contest and get his brother back. His guise in my contest now is Minion." Calypso said, clutching his fists.  
  
"BLLLLLAAAAAA...CCCCCCCCKK KI....LLLLLLLLLL H....IM?" Black grunted.  
  
"In time. In time." Calypso said smiling.  
  
Courage remained up in the attic, feeling his adrenaline glands overwork and overload. He felt like killing himself, then realized it was a sign of a nervous breakdown. He began tasting things that weren't there either. He feared that this breakdown would kill him.  
  
He tried to remain calm, but the scene outside got weirder and weirder. More freaks arrived. One in a tank, one in a cop car, one in a dump truck with nukes on the sides (Black's car). The drivers varied too, from punks in a monster truck, to a drag queen, to Sweet Tooth and Pizza Boy. All wanted one thing this night.  
  
Courage felt sick to his stomach, and the feeling grew worse when he saw the poor soul Axel. He had wheels for arms, and his body hung in between. Courage could hear all the talking amongst the contestants.  
  
"I re-built my arms as a punishment for letting my wife die. It took 18 months to get all of her back by mail. I'm going to kill the bastard that did this to my wife!" Axel said to Sweet Tooth, who happened to question Axel and his appearance.  
  
He rolled off, leaving Sweet Tooth alone.  
  
"Sure you will. Sure you will." Sweet Tooth said to himself, placing a bloody knife next to a roll of shipping paper.  
  
Courage fainted from stress. But he missed the best part. Preacher, the bastard that cursed Sweet Tooth, had arrived. His black car with the stain- glassed windshield shone in the last remains of sunlight. The weapon of his choice? Firing stakes with suicide bombing sinners, hoping to repent.  
  
Courage groggily came too, after night had fallen. He looked out the window to see all the cars, 40 in all (from all 5 games) lined up in neat rows. The contest was about to begin.  
  
Courage looked up and saw the blimp again, hovering slowly over the group. He cringed and felt sick to his stomach. He curled up on the floor and began talking to himself.  
  
"I wish this would go away, I wish this would just disappear." He whispered to himself, feeling ready to cry.  
  
"Wait a minuet! The only way to make my wish come true, is to win the contest! But how?" Courage thought. Then he remembered, Eustace's truck!  
  
He grabbed some paper and began scribbling out blueprints. He ran out the back door and towards town, taking the truck.  
  
Well, what dose Courage have in mind? 


	4. BOSS 1

Courage approached the garage and parked outside. He walked inside and up to Mr. Mouse. Mr. Mouse was a friend of his, and now could help him with his plan.  
  
He proposed the idea of outfitting the truck for the Twisted Metal contest.  
  
"Ah yes. Twisted Metal. I've heard of that contest. Tried it out once myself. Didn't get far. Got to watch out for the bosses." Mr. Mouse said, looking over the truck.  
  
"Bosses?" Courage asked looking up from the blueprints he had drawn earlier.  
  
"Yeah. If you make it all the way, you have to face three bosses before your wish is granted. You fight Manslaughter, Warhawk, and some mysterious dude in a tanker truck. He's the most dangerous one of all." Mr. Mouse said, counting on his fingers as he spoke the names.  
  
Courage wondered about all this going on so fast, then realized he had to focus on the task at hand.  
  
After an hour of work, the truck was now outfitted with bulletproof paneling and glass, as well as a small machine gun that launched doggie bones at high speeds. The bed now housed a crane-like arm with a small metal ball on the end of a cable.  
  
"Now, I think you stand a chance, just be careful and watch your back!" Mr. Mouse said, patting Courage on the shoulders. "Don't see it as a contest, see it as a fight for survival!"  
  
"Thanks Mr. Mouse!" Courage said, shaking hands. He hopped in the truck and drove off. Mr. Mouse waved after him, a smile of satisfaction on his face.  
  
Courage arrived in the heat of the battle. The cars were slamming against each other, and missiles, bullets, and other things were flying around the field. Yet none hit their intended targets.  
  
Sweet Tooth had transformed his ice cream truck into its robot form and was destroying the competitors with relative ease.  
  
Courage entered the fray and began firing doggy bones through the windshields of several cars. They swerved and hit each other, leading them to fight amongst themselves.  
  
Courage swung the truck sideways, swinging the ball into the side of Sweet Tooth, ony to be sliced by several pizza saws from Pizza Boy.  
  
Mike and Stu were piloting their stolen monster truck into a cluster of fighting drivers. Enforcer, the cop car, was speeding along and blasting opponents.  
  
It was a long battle and Courage was left standing. (YAY!)  
  
Courage remembered the bosses.  
  
Manslaughter drove up. A huge dump truck with nuclear missiles on the sides and Black behind the wheel.  
  
"BLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAA..CCCCCCCCK...KKKKKKKKII.LLLLLL....LLLL YO..UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!" he spat through his grunts and hisses. 


End file.
